The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-09-03
The Mexican Mendicant.
Alex. Sweet, in Texas siftings


 Those who have never had the pleas ure of an introduction to a Mexican mendicant can have no idea of what an entertaining rascal and sarcastic knave he really is.
 He is nothing unless he pretends to be pious, and he always talks as if he had unlimited influence with angels and saints. In return for few cents he will promise to have more blessings showered down on the generous do- nor than the latter can ever hope to obtain in an honorable and legitimate way, or in the ordinary course of trade.
 The Mexican pilgrim differs mate rially from the mob of gospel buns who try to beat people out of money by pounding drums and peeling the lining off their throats while bowling idiotic madrigals. The Mexican men, dicant usually hunts in gangs of one, composed entirely of himself He is always suave, and there is an air of re- signed sadness about him that is dis covered in no other mendicant unless it be in some Republican postmaster, who is trying to persuade President Cleveland that the interests of civil service will be advanced by mutual endeavor by the president and himself to keep each other in office.
 A travel-stained old beggar once ap- piled at the house of a Mexican lady 1 living in the suburbs of San Antonio. He presented a miserable appearance, his tattered serope being thrown with graceful negligence over his frail and trembling form, bent with the storms and sorrows of more than three score years of poverty and misfortune.
 "Por el amor de Dtos, have pity on a poor old man and give him nights lodging, and you will be rewarded in heaven," said the old Mexican, turn ing up his eyes until only the whites, or rather the yellows, of them were visible. The lady was moved with compassion, and told one of her ser wants to give the old man his supper and bed.
 Next morning the old pilgrim arose at very early hour. It was his in- tention not to leave until he had thanked his kind hostess and had a warm breakfast, but he happened to peer into vacant room, the door of which had been left open, when what should he perceive but small silver image of the Virgin in niche, as is customary in the houses of wealthy Catholics.
 He was very religious old man. He stealthily approached the silver image in most humble position, and placing it under his arm, sneaked ouf of the room, concealing the object of his devotions with his cloak, or serdpe. He was just about to emerge from the house with his booty, when whom should he meet but the lady of the house herself, who was returning from her early devotions.
 "What!" she exclaimed, "are you going already? Why do you not stay and have some breakfast?"
 "Ah, madame," said the old man, with grateful emotion, adjusting his mantle so that she could not see the stolen image of the Virgin, "how glad would be to accept your kind invita- tion, but have long journey before me, and want to travel in the cool of the morning, before the heat becomes intolerable."
 "I am sorry," replied the kind hearted lady; "that you cannot stop to breakfast, but I will not detain you Good bye, and may the Virgin go with you," which is equivalent to say ing in English: "Take care of your self, old boy"
 When the old beggar heard this parting salutation, he squeezed the silver image under his arm, and replied, in voice husky with emotion:-
 "Ah, madame, you are indeed too kind. I indeed hope that the Virgin will go with me, and may all the saints remain with you to comfort and console you in the hour of tribu- lation."
 So saying he took his departure, and the Virgin did go with him, for neither of them were ever seen alter wards, although the police hunted the country far and near.